Miss You Like Crazy

I’m not homesick. I’m not moving back. You know how much I love Chicago, but I really, really, really love living in LA. I’ve just been missing my friends a lot lately and more specifically I miss you. I don’t have a friend-soulmate in LA. If there’s a person here who understands my love of the Labyrinth Soundtrack, my need for 10+ quality shopping hours a week and my addiction to cheesy PG action movies, I haven’t met them yet. I haven’t found the person I’m not embarrassed to sing and dance in front of. Nobody in LA ever wants to go to on a pilgrimage to Will Rogers Memorial Park with me (If I have to explain what that means, you are not my friendship soulmate). Nobody knows the things about me that you do, not even Andrew. You and I talk about everything. I can tell you my secrets. My REAL secrets. My stupidest ideas. I miss that. I miss you.

I’m so lucky. I’ve met some really amazing people here, I’m starting to find allies, people that get me. I’m beginning to share all the wonderfully weird and fucked up things about me that you don’t get on first meeting. I now have a few choice friendships that I think are on their way to greatness (Hi, Em!). I’m enjoying flexing my friend muscle again and I cannot wait to see how those new relationships shape up. But I will always, always miss you.

Despite all my social media presence, I’m a horrible communicator. I’m not a phone person. I’m an in person person. I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out than talk for longer than 15 minutes to anyone over the phone. I think you’re probably the same way. Which means I make a lousy long-distance friend and I’m very sorry for that. You know I’m not a terribly emotional person. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. I find it hard to tell people what they mean to me. It’s the only time I’m really at a loss for words.

So I’m sorry that it took a stupid blog post for me to tell you, but I wanted you to know that I think about you all the time, I love you and that I miss you terribly.